1965: Some More Words About Vita

I feel like I’ve written this post a number of times before — indeed, I had to search my own blog just to make sure — but I feel it’s time we talked about the PlayStation Vita. Again, because the issues I described last time really haven’t improved a great deal — at least not so far as the press is concerned.

Sony’s handheld is a wonderful platform. It’s arguably the most distinctive of all the currently available platforms — with the possible exception of Nintendo’s 3DS — thanks to its unique library of titles, and it’s very much carved out its own niche.

By virtue of this, however, the platform is, by definition, not ideal for everyone. Despite originally being marketed as the most powerful handheld on the market — and I don’t have the tech specs to hand, but certainly from casual observation I don’t doubt that claim — Vita is not a platform on which you should expect to play a lot of “triple-A” games. And this is what has led some people to regard it as a “failure”; a seeming lack of the big hitter franchises like Call of Duty, Assassin’s Creed and Battlefield on the platform coupled with the apparent lack of support from both triple-A studios and, at times, Sony itself doesn’t paint a particularly rosy picture.

But here’s the thing: it doesn’t matter. It may not be entirely what Vita was originally positioned as, but Vita’s niche serves a passionate market. Several passionate markets, in fact: specifically, the market that enjoys localised Japanese games (or, indeed, those who like to import, since Vita is region-free, unlike the 3DS) and the market that enjoys interesting, creative and/or experimental independently developed Western games. Between those two niches — which have a certain degree of crossover — Vita has an astonishing library of quality games, even without the heavy hitters of the industry.

And who wants to play visually spectacular triple-A games on a tiny screen, anyway? Triple-A isn’t playing to the platform’s strengths at all, which explains why since an initial few attempts — most notably an Uncharted game that apparently wasn’t all that bad but not as good as the PS3 installments, and an absolutely terrible Call of Duty spinoff — triple-A developers are paying the console little to no mind. (Ubisoft is something of an exception to this, though their smaller titles are very much designed with an “indie” philosophy in keeping with the Vita anyhow.)

Vita’s strength is its portability, and its best games are those that cater both to short play sessions and longer marathons. The many, many quality role-playing games that grace the platform are testament to this: although RPGs are typically regarded as somewhat slow-moving, in most cases those that have been designed specifically for Vita have been put together in such a way that you can fire them up for a few battles and still feel like you’ve had a worthwhile experience. The Neptunia games are a good example; their dungeons are short and their battles super-quick, but if you want to sit down with them for a few hours at a time as opposed to a few minutes, there’s plenty of depth to explore there, too.

So what’s my point? Well, mostly bafflement, as expressed by a number of us Vita enthusiasts on Twitter earlier today when we saw yet another article snippet berating the handheld for no particularly good reason. We found ourselves questioning exactly why it’s treated this way, and why it’s still regarded as a “failure” or “dead”. The misinterpretation of Sony’s recent “legacy platform” comments certainly didn’t help, though one can lay at least part of the blame at the feet of the press for that one for poor reporting.

Another possible perspective is to do with what I’ve just talked about: the niches that Vita serves. A while back, Polygon’s Phil Kollar — a supposed JRPG expert and enthusiast — posted a particularly obnoxious article berating Atlus for localising Dungeon Travelers 2, a dungeon-crawling RPG starring a cast of cute girls that has a lineage which can be slightly indirectly traced back to an eroge called To Heart 2. (Read my response here, if you’re bored.) Kollar lambasted the game while clearly having little to no knowledge of it whatsoever and no desire to explore or investigate it, and he’s not the only one to post such a piece. In other words, it’s little surprise that popular perception of Vita suffers when it’s typically ignored in favour of the big-budget PC and console triple-A flavours of the month — except, of course, when something “problematic” rears its head and gets all the “progressive” types in a tizzy.

It’s probably a gross oversimplification to consider that Vita might be suffering at the hands of the press because many of its games don’t fit neatly in with the “progressive” ideology that most mainstream gaming sites are presently trying to peddle — this viewpoint ignores the numerous successful Western indie games, including the more experimental, arty end of the spectrum, for example — but I can’t help but feel there’s a bit of truth in there. To return to Neptunia, for example, we’re talking about a series of games that has grown from very humble beginnings in 2010 into one of the most popular, recognisable, prolific and varied series in the whole Japanese niche gaming market, but is it ever acknowledged by the big sites? Is it bollocks.

Anyway, fortunately, despite the perpetuation of the “Vita has no games, Vita is dying/dead” narrative, the platform is very much alive, well and beloved by those who have taken the time to understand what it’s doing and engage with it. I have a healthy collection of Vita games in both physical and digital format; a somewhat more dedicated friend on Twitter has over a hundred games for his Vita in both physical and digital format, and the new releases out of Japan don’t look like slowing down any time soon.

One thing that’s become increasingly clear to me as the years have passed is that the press is rapidly losing relevance, and the numerous “social commentary” pieces that regularly rear their ugly heads are an attempt to move with the times and evolve. Fair enough, but that’s not what I want to read in most cases; meanwhile, that which I used to get from games magazines and websites — enthusiastic discussion of games I’ve played, and recommendations of games I might like to play — I now get from social media, via personal interactions with the people who actually matter when it comes to this sort of thing: the people who are actually playing them.

As a former member of the games press, it’s a slightly frustrating and disheartening situation to see. But so long as Vita keeps coming out with great games that I want to play — and two new ones arrived just this week (Moe Chronicle and Operation Abyss), so I don’t think that will be a problem — I’ll keep talking about it, and I’m far from the only one who feels this way, thankfully. It’s just a pity it’s so hard to make people outside our circle of enthusiasts listen.

1963: Cold Steel

XSEED Games, localisation specialists extraordinaire, made a number of delightful announcements for fans of Japanese games earlier today. Firstly was the entirely expected but now thankfully confirmed news that Senran Kagura Estival Versus is coming to Western PS4s and Vitas later in the year — I’m supremely happy about this, as Senran Kagura is a fantastic series with some of the best characterisation out there.

Secondly, the more “major” news for many was the announcement that Trails of Cold Steel — known to Japanese fans as Sen no Kiseki or its previous unofficial English moniker Trails in the Flash — is also coming West. Not only that, the first of its two chapters is pretty much finished and almost ready to go.

For the unfamiliar, Trails of Cold Steel is part of the Legend of Heroes series by Falcom, a long-running and deeply, deeply respected series of role-playing games. We haven’t had a lot of them over here in the West, but PSP (and later PC) installmentTrails in the Sky First Chapter came out a few years back to critical acclaim — I wrote some words about it here — and its own Second Chapter is coming shortly having nearly killed poor Andrew Dice of Carpe Fulgur, who worked on the mammoth job of translating its extremely substantial script.

After the initial joy at the announcement came some concern from long-standing series fans who had played Trails in the Sky’s follow-up games Zero no Kiseki, Ao no Kiseki and Trails in the Sky Third Chapter. Unlike many of the previous Legend of Heroes games, the Kiseki games have a deep relationship with one another, with each of the three “groups” of games (Trails in the Sky, Zero/Ao no Kiseki and Trails of Cold Steel) unfolding on a different part of the same continent. The games all refer to one another and act as “prequels” to one another, so some fans were concerned that newcomers to Trails of Cold Steel would be thrown in at the deep end having missed three whole games’ worth of lore and background. And the Kiseki series is not what you’d call light on lore; in fact, it features some of the most well-realised worldbuilding of any RPG I’ve played.

Brittany “Hatsuu” Avery of Xseed, one of my absolute favourite people in the games industry, took to the Xseed blog to address some of these concerns. And she’s certainly set my mind at rest.

To summarise, the reasons why we’re not getting Zero and Ao — yet, anyway, since there’s a strong suggestion that they will come at a later date, probably on PC — is partly due to technological and marketing concerns. Zero and Ao are PSP games, you see, and while there are still a few PSP games trickling out here and there due to their Vita compatibility — Trails in the Sky Second Chapter will be one — the PSP as a platform has technically been “dead” for some time. As such, it makes sense to push out Trails of Cold Steel for PS3 and Vita, since both of those platforms are still relevant at this time — PS3 is on the decline somewhat, but while developers such as Idea Factory/Compile Heart, Nippon Ichi and Square Enix have made the transition to PS4, there are still a number of PS3 titles incoming for the next year or two at least. Vita, meanwhile, for all the press’ attempts to declare it “dead” every few weeks, is enjoying a small-scale but successful existence as the go-to platform for fans of role-playing games and other Japanese fare.

Hatsuu also notes that Xseed took this decision with the full approval of the games’ original developers Falcom, whose original intention was always that the three sub-series of the overarching Kiseki storyline could stand on their own and be played in any order. In fact, what you’d get from playing them “out of order” would be an experience and perspective on the overall story unique to Western players and different to what Japan had. Kind of like the difference between watching the Star Wars films in chronological order of release or watching them in “canonical” order from I-VI.

Trails in the Sky First Chapter was a stunning game that I enjoyed very much, and I’m glad to see the rest of this highly regarded series is coming West. It may not be in the “right” order and that may have a few snooty fans being a bit salty, but I’m more than happy to support Xseed taking on ambitious projects of this magnitude and delivering them with aplomb. Xseed are one of my favourite developer-publisher-localisation outfits right now, and they deserve the support of anyone who loves Japanese games.

1961: Sound Shapes

I remember first seeing Sound Shapes at a Gamescom I was covering for GamePro back when GamePro was still a thing. I found it immediately intriguing — partly because it was a game on the then-new-and-shiny Vita, but also because it looked to have some interesting ideas. Now, some several years later, thanks to a significant PlayStation Plus discounted price, I’ve finally played it. And I’ve been quite surprised by what I found.

Sound Shapes, if you’re unfamiliar, is ostensibly a platform game, but with a few peculiar twists, the first of which being that you don’t play as a “character” as such, instead this weird sort of ball thing that can switch between “sticky” and “non-sticky” states at will. When in its default sticky state, it can stick to certain walls and even ceilings; when in its non-sticky state, it moves faster and can jump further. These are the only controls you use in Sound Shapes; where the game gets interesting is in the sheer variety of ways it uses these very simple mechanics.

The “sound” part of the title comes from the fact that the game is heavily music-based. Elements of each screen you visit — no scrolling here; only old-school 8-bit style flick screens — move in time with the music, and the collectible objects in each level are “notes” that affect the soundtrack once you’ve picked them up. Indeed, when you make use of the level editor, you’re not only putting together some fiendish platforming puzzles, you’re also composing a piece of music.

And there’s a surprising amount of variety, too. Shipping with a number of different “albums” and providing plenty more to explore online, Sound Shapes sees you exploring a number of different environments according to special guest musicians and artists. The first “world”‘s art is done by Capy, for example, while the second is a collaboration between Jim Guthrie on music and Superbrothers on art. The two contrast hugely; Capy’s world is very organic and smooth, looking like it’s been drawn in flat-shaded vector graphics. Guthrie and Superbrothers’ world, meanwhile, looks very much like their well-known game Sworcery, but appears to be some sort of introspective reflection on the futility of modern everyday office life.

What I like about Sound Shapes is that it’s arty without being pretentious about it. You can treat it as a straightforward platformer if you like, or you can treat the stages as works of interactive art, where the overall multimedia experience has been crafted to put a particular image in your mind, or make you feel a particular way. Some are more successful than others, but all are satisfying and fun to play.

I’ve been really surprised at quite how good Sound Shapes is. It’s a shame I didn’t pick it up sooner, really, but I’m having fun with it now, at least; I can recommend it if you’re in the mood for some straightforward, pick-up-and-play platforming with a very distinctive, striking audio-visual aesthetic.

1939: Ah, So That’s What PlayStation Plus is For

Up until now, I’ve been a bit resistant to PlayStation Plus, the subscription service that Sony provides for its PlayStation platforms.

Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t been outright against it or anything; it’s more that I’ve never really seen the need for it in my life.

A bit of context for those less familiar with it, then: PlayStation Plus is required for you to play online multiplayer games on PlayStation 4. (It is not required to play online with PlayStation 3 and Vita.) This aspect of it I can take or leave, since I don’t play a lot of online games — Final Fantasy XIV is the only one I play with any regularity, in fact, and I play that on PC.

PlayStation Plus also allows you to upload save games to “the cloud” so that you can easily, say, transfer them between different devices or delete a game and restore your progress later on. Again, I haven’t had much need for this; the one and only time I wished I had it was when I had a downloadable review copy of Hyperdimension Neptunia: Producing Perfection on Vita, subsequently got a physical copy (because I like physical copies) and discovered that it was impossible to delete the downloadable version without also deleting its save data due to Vita’s somewhat restrictive file system. If I’d had PlayStation Plus, I would have been able to back up my save, delete the downloadable version then bring it back in to play with the physical version.

PlayStation Plus also provides you with discounts on games from the PlayStation Store each month. These are often quite significant discounts, but you do have to bear in mind that you’re paying the subscription fee each month, so you’re perhaps not saving quite as much as you think you are.

And finally, PlayStation Plus provides you with “free” games each month. I put the term “free” in quotation marks because you don’t own them in the same way as you would if you’d actually bought them outright, either in physical or downloadable form. Rather, you have unlimited access to them for as long as you continue to subscribe to PlayStation Plus; they’re effectively extended rentals, if you like.

Now, this latter aspect had been the part I’d probably been most “against”, because I like to own my games, preferably in physical format, and PlayStation Plus didn’t seem especially compatible with that mindset. What I hadn’t counted on, as I’ve discovered since I signed up for my trial period on my new PS4, was the fact that PlayStation Plus actually provides you with a risk-free means of trying out some things you’d perhaps found interesting, but didn’t really want to hand over the money for in case they weren’t all that good.

This month, for example, one of the “free” games on PS4 (and PS3 and Vita, for that matter) is a title called Race the Sun. This is an independently developed game in which you fly a low-polygon spaceship across a randomly generated low-polygon world that changes every real-time day, attempt not to crash into anything and usually fail. It starts extremely simple, almost insultingly so — I nearly put the game down a few moments after starting it because it seemed so bare-bones and simplistic — but gradually grows in depth and complexity as you complete objectives and “level up”, with new mechanics gradually unlocking as you progress through the levels. Now I’m about halfway through the unlocks and finding it an addictive little affair; the somewhat Star Fox-esque aesthetic is appealing, the music is good, the gameplay is frustrating but addictive and it has a somewhat more satisfying feel than your average mobile phone endless runner — which, let’s face it, is basically what it is, with a few extra knobs on.

Would I have spent money on Race the Sun? Well, I certainly wrote about it a bit when I was still working at USgamer, as I thought it looked interesting. It had never quite looked interesting enough for me to actually want to hand over the cash for it, though, and as such it initially passed me by, though I still contemplated it every time I saw it in a Steam sale.

Here’s the power of PlayStation Plus, then; it allows me to investigate these games that I’ve found interesting but, for one reason or another, never bought my own copy of. There’s no risk in me doing this, and I get a decent selection to choose from each month. It’s more effective than a demo because you get the whole game. And it’s less morally questionable than piracy because you’re still paying for the game and the devs are getting a cut — it’s just getting to them via different means.

And if I end up actually really liking something I’ve got through PlayStation Plus? There’s nothing stopping me actually buying a copy to keep permanently in my collection even if I let my subscription lapse.

So okay, I admit it; I should have probably checked PlayStation Plus out sooner. But better late than never, huh?

1919: #WaifuWednesday – Shin (Criminal Girls)

The temptation to pick another Senran Kagura girl this week was very high indeed — I’ve just finished the main story of Shinovi Versus and there are, after all, 25 very interesting female characters in that game. But since I’m planning on doing a more comprehensive Senran Kagura writeup over at MoeGamer later this week when I’ve finished all the side stories in Shinovi Versus, I thought I’d mix things up a bit and show a bit of appreciation for the girl who currently graces my Windows wallpaper on my living room PC: Shin, from Criminal Girls on Vita, which I beat a few weeks back.

Spoilers ahead.

Shin, real name Makoto, is based primarily around the commonly used anime trope of the hikikomori, or shut-in. A renowned, well-known and somewhat notorious MMO player who was viciously bullied in real life for her interests and passions, Shin had, over time, retreated from society to live in her own private world where she felt safe. She’d done this to the exclusion of everyone around her — going so far as to lock herself inside her room and only eat whatever food had been left outside for her.

When you encounter Shin for the first time in Criminal Girls, none of this is apparent. She simply seems like an overconfident “leader type”, wanting to boss everyone around and, as the oldest member of the group, believing that her opinion carries a considerable degree of weight. Her “leader type” personality is even reflected in her game mechanics; by herself, she’s not very formidable, but most of her power comes from her “Operation” skills, which partner with at least one other party member to effectively deliver multiple special attacks in the space of a single turn.

Over time, her facade slips, however; she continually makes poor decisions that put the group in danger, and throwaway comments she makes gradually reveal her otaku side. It eventually becomes very apparent that she’s trying desperately to be someone that she isn’t, and that by hiding herself away she’s hurting the people around her.

The main thrust of Criminal Girls’ story surrounds the player’s attempts to “redeem” the titular girls from their past sins, to prevent them being incarcerated in Hell and giving them another chance at life. Shin’s sin, then, is that of neglecting others; she personifies the Deadly Sin of Envy. She envies those who have a normal life and is embittered by her drop-out, shut-in existence; the arrogant persona she initially displays is both a reflection of the character she played online and of who she thinks she “ought” to be — a persona she believes to be more likeable.

As the girls and the player character come to trust one another more, though, Shin starts to open up. She’s more honest and less confrontational, though she still bickers with the rather spoiled Kisaragi; the two are more similar than either of them would care to admit. Most importantly, she learns through others accepting her that it is also possible to accept herself without being ashamed; there’s no need for her to cut herself off from her problems and hide away. In doing so, in fact, she had simply made matters worse; the longer she was alone, the more she believed she needed to be alone, and so her resentment and envy towards “normal” people grew.

Those of you who know me well will surely not be surprised to hear that I found Shin to be one of the most relatable characters in Criminal Girls. While I haven’t gone to the lengths she has — I’m fortunate enough to have a good circle of friends (both online and off) and a wonderful fiancee who tolerate, understand and accept the things I’m interested in — I can very much empathise with her feelings of isolation, the suffering she endured while she was being bullied and her envy for people who seem to be able to go about their business “normally”. I’ve been through some of the things Shin has been through — though fortunately in my case it didn’t involve a literal trip to Hell and back — and as such she occupies a special place in my heart.

A toast to you, then, Shin; you were one of numerous reasons I’m glad I made that journey through Hell.

1895: More Noire

Been playing some more Hyperdevotion Noire today, so I make no apologies for spending another post talking about it.

I am enjoying it a whole lot so far, and although I’m still relatively early on in the game, the interesting mission and map design is starting to shine through as the game adds more and more map gimmicks and mechanics to take into account while playing.

Of the last few missions, I’ve played, for example, one saw my party of four (Noire, Neptune, Vert and Blanc) fighting against the emphatically-not-Chun-Li-oh-wait-she-clearly-is “road pugilist” Lee-Fi. She was on the far side of a large arena whose walls were electrified, which means that knockback attacks had a use beyond simply getting enemies away from you. Some of the floor was electrified, too, necessitating careful route planning and an understanding of the game’s “orientation” system, whereby the direction a character is facing when they start moving (you can change it freely) determines the initial direction they move if the target space is not in a straight line from their current position.

This was followed up by a fight against the emphatically-not-Solid-Snake-with-tits-oh-wait-she-clearly-is superspy Lid, whose battlefield was riddled with booby-traps, necessitating, again, careful navigation while fending off her supporting units. Two strips of the battlefield are also covered by large, heavy damage-dealing cannons, too, though once you notice that they can only fire in a straight line immediately in front of them it’s easy enough to avoid them.

This was then followed by a battle against the Agarest-inspired character Resta, who was on the other side of a huge chasm, the only means of traversing which was a rickety railway carriage that could only hold three of your four party members at once. Resta also has an absolutely devastating super-move which obliterated my party in a single turn by dropping giant explosive bunches of bananas on their heads, so after my second “Game Over” of the game (the first being not paying attention to the cannons in Lid’s stage) I realised that it was essential to take her down in a single turn and not get distracted by her supporting units, since the mission objective was simply to defeat her, not everything on the map.

Thus far the game has put up a reasonably stiff challenge. The first couple of missions are deceptively simple, but beginning with the Lee-Fi fight, things have been getting noticeably more difficult — and a little more gradually than most Neptunia games, which are somewhat notorious for inconsistent difficulty spikes throughout most of the experience, then becoming ridiculously easy once you pass a particular level threshold. The difficulty hasn’t been insurmountable, though, and the new mechanics have been introduced gradually enough that I haven’t felt as overwhelmed as I have done in similar games like Advance Wars and Fire Emblem, where I often can’t work out why my strategy failed when it inevitably does. Here, failure seems to generally be the result of not paying enough attention — and given that you can examine all the units on both sides of the battle before you start fighting, there’s really no excuse for the mistakes I have made up until this point; I’ve certainly learned to carefully survey the battlefield before charging in now!

I’ve always quite liked tactics games and even finished Final Fantasy Tactics way back in the day, but Hyperdevotion Noire is the first one I feel like I’m understanding a little better. It’s designed well, plays well, looks great and features probably my favourite cast of characters in gaming. What’s not to like?

1894: Goddess Black Heart

Finally got around to firing up the rather grandiosely titled Hyperdevotion Noire: Goddess Black Heart today, and I’m pleased to report that thus far it appears to be excellent.

For the unfamiliar, Hyperdevotion Noire is another installment in my perennial favourite game series Hyperdimension Neptunia, or more accurately, it’s one of several “spinoff” games that have broken free of the main continuity… not that Neptunia has ever been a series particularly concerned with internal continuity. In other words, it stands by itself as its own self-contained story, though naturally you’ll probably get more out of it if you’re already familiar with the characters and concepts involved.

Unlike most of the Neptunia games, Hyperdevotion Noire puts, oddly enough, PlayStation personification Noire in the leading role. Unfolding in a separate, parallel setting to the main Neptunia games (the land of “Gamarket” instead of “Gamindustri”), Hyperdevotion Noire opens with Noire dominating much of the world with her superior military might, army of generals (each of whom represents a well-known game series, such as the Metal Gear-inspired girl named “Lid” seen in the screenshot below) and overwhelming support from the people. Unfortunately, her position as top dog isn’t to last; after being tricked into releasing the power of her “Shares” — the source of a Goddess’ power in the Neptunia universe — monsters run amok in her city, people disappear and her once-trusted generals start fighting among themselves. It’s up to Noire — along with the rest of the Neptunia gang, who show up pretty near the beginning of the whole affair — to sort out the mess she had a part in creating, find out who the mysterious woman “Eno” who set these events in motion is (hint: she looks uncannily like recurring series villain Arfoire) and ultimately unite Gamarket.

It’s up to you, meanwhile, to take care of Noire and help her out as she goes about her business. Yes, like fellow spinoff Hyperdimension Neptunia: Producing Perfection, Hyperdevotion Noire puts the player in the game as a first-person protagonist rather than simply telling the story of the main cast. Recruited as Noire’s secretary shortly after meeting her, you’re tasked with managing the party, strategising in battle, renovating and decorating Noire’s headquarters and helping her make appropriate policy decisions as the citizens of Lastation come to her with requests.

The meat of the game comes in the battle sequences. Rather than being a dungeon-crawling, item-gathering/crafting RPG as the mainline Neptunia installments are, Hyperdevotion Noire is a strategy RPG, developed by Sting (of Gungnir, Knights in the Nightmare and Yggdra Union fame). Mainline Neptunia games have always had a slight element of tactics to their battle sequences thanks to positional bonuses, cleaving attacks and formation skills, but battles in those games are generally pretty short; punctuation to dungeon crawling. In Hyperdevotion Noire, a single battle represents a complete encounter and provides you with specific objectives: sometimes you’ll simply have to defeat all enemies; sometimes you’ll have to defeat a specific enemy; sometimes you’ll have to complete objectives before a specific number of turns pass.

The game does a good job of introducing concepts to you gradually, and there’s a bunch of interesting systems at play. Core to the game is the “Lily Boost” system, whereby characters can power up their relationship values with other characters, earn “Lily Points” and reduce the cost of their special moves by triggering their skills when adjacent to other characters, which causes the supporting characters to give the acting character an adorable little peck on the cheek. Chu! Although cheeky and flirtatious, the system adds an interesting dynamic to battles: you have to think very carefully about both turn order and formation when setting up attacks, especially when you’re dealing with enemies who can hit several tiles at once. It’s no good getting all set up for a four-way snog if an enemy with a massive cleave is just going to kill all of you at once when it comes to their turn, after all.

That’s not all to think about, though. Battle maps include treasure chests in awkward-to-reach locations, which you’ll need to acquire before completing your objectives if you want the goodies therein. A Final Fantasy X-style “Overkill” bonus rewards you with rare drops if you defeat an enemy with far more damage than you need to. Maps have variable elevation and environmental hazards — both of which can be conveniently bypassed if you switch the goddess characters into their flying “HDD” forms, but in order to do this you’ll need to build up the Lily Points gauge first, and then it only lasts for three turns, so you need to make the most of it. Setting a specific character as the “leader” of the squad confers special bonuses (and, sometimes, penalties) on the group as a whole. Characters each have their own array of “challenges” to complete, each of which rewards them with significant stat bonuses.

There is a hell of a lot of game here. This is nothing new for a Neptunia game — I’ve easily spent over 100 hours on the last few installments in an attempt to get the Platinum trophies and hidden goodies — but considering this is a “spinoff” game and not technically part of the main series, it’s impressive. I’m only a short way in to the overall plot so far, but I’m already enjoying both the narrative and gameplay sides; it’s shaping up to be a fine installment in a favourite series, and all the more noteworthy for doing something a little bit different.

1881: Path to Redemption

I’m in the process of finishing up Criminal Girls: Invite Only on Vita, and I’ve been really pleasantly surprised how good it ended up being. I’m planning on writing something a bit more in-depth for MoeGamer when I’ve beaten it properly, but I thought I’d share a few thoughts on here for those who don’t visit MoeGamer, or for those who just want to hear some disjointed ramblings about it now.

It’s easy to write Criminal Girls off as an oversexualised mess of an RPG, with a gratutiously exploitative minigame in which you spank, electrocute, drip liquid on and tickle a series of young women posing in suggestive positions. And indeed, even with the “pink mist” censorship introduced in the Western release of the game (and the loss of the girls’ voices in these sequences) these sequences are pretty clearly sexual in nature: everything from the poses they’re in to the provocative outfits they wear and their reactions after you’ve, uh, finished — all point to something that while it isn’t outright explicit, is certainly rather close to the, if you’ll pardon the expression, bone.

But, as with most material of this nature, it bears further exploration, and doing so reveals something a lot more interesting. Why are these sequences there in the first place? From a gameplay perspective, you’re expected to complete them in order to unlock the girls’ new abilities through five different “tiers”, with each tier involving a slight variation on the touchscreen-based minigame. From a narrative perspective, you’re “motivating” these girls — who are dead and in Hell, but being given a second chance — to try harder in their struggle for redemption, though in the original Japanese script, still audible through the Japanese-only voice acting, the wording was おしおき (oshioki: punishment) rather than “motivation”. If we’re being super-picky, we’re not actually spanking, electrocuting, dribbling on and tickling the girls themselves; in the minigame you’re removing “temptations” from their bodies via various means, and the removal of these “temptations” allows them to take a step closer to being free of sin and becoming “Blameless”.

Interestingly, the girls’ reactions to this treatment changes significantly throughout the course of the game. Early on, they react with fear and anger when you approach them with the intention of indulging in some “motivation time” and clench their teeth in pain afterwards; by the end of the game, however, they’re starting to sound like they’re actually enjoying themselves, even going so far as to praise you in some instances.

This can be interpreted in a number of different ways, not all of them positive, but given the themes of the game’s narrative as a whole, it’s pretty apparent that this is symbolic of the growing level of trust between these “delinquents” and the player-protagonist self-insert character. By the end of the game, they trust the player-protagonist completely, and are aware that the removal of their temptations brings them closer to redemption, in turn making them more powerful and more likely to succeed. A turning point in the story comes with all of the main cast confronting the sins that landed them in Hell in the first place, and it’s only through the bonds of trust they’ve built between one another and with the player-protagonist that they’re able to make it through this experience unscathed.

I’m yet to see how the story reaches its several conclusions, but I’m very interested to find out. It has been, for sure, one of the most unusual role-playing games I’ve played for a long time, both in gameplay and narrative terms, and one that I feel I’ll be remembering for quite some time after it’s left my Vita.

And no, not just for the kinky pictures.

1859: Invite Only

Been playing a bit more Criminal Girls this week, and I’m enjoying it a lot, despite its flaws. (Said flaws, if you were wondering, include somewhat repetitive dungeon design, an encounter rate that is a little too high to be comfortable, battles that take a little too long/move too slowly/both and the strong necessity for grinding that will be required to unlock all the girls’ abilities.)

The absolute best thing about it is its atmosphere. Although the in-game visuals are PSP-level pixel art (sharply contrasting with the high-resolution character portraits, battle graphics and other visuals), they’re evocative and distinctive, and the individual sprites have a lot of character about them, particularly in idle animations. When combined with the music and background sound, the game has a wonderfully palpable sense of menace about it — entirely appropriate for a game set in the depths of Hell.

In fact, the atmosphere and presentation bring to mind another game: Corpse Party. Criminal Girls is a (relatively) traditional RPG compared to Corpse Party’s visual-novel-that-looks-like-an-RPG nature, of course, but in terms of atmosphere the two are quite similar. There’s a sense that something unpleasant could happen at any moment, and a lovely juxtaposition between the often light-hearted banter between characters and the unpleasant things that are going on around them.

The characters keep things interesting, too. At the beginning of the game, you don’t know anything about them, aside from their personalities. Initially, there’s Kisaragi, who is seemingly full of rage and obsessed with materialism; there’s the shy, childish Alice, who is one of the most adorable characters I’ve ever had in my party in any game ever; there’s the determined, tomboyish Sako; and there’s the obviously older, man-hating Ran. As the game progresses, additional girls join the group, and they each have their own distinct personalities — and, presumably, dark pasts — to discover.

The setup is immediately intriguing. Why are these girls in Hell? Why are they getting a chance to redeem themselves? Why have you been brought in to lead and “motivate” them? What do you get out of the whole situation? (Aside from being able to perv at the girls in a variety of costumes while you spank, electrocute and do various other S&M-ish things to the “temptations” that infest their bodies, of course, which is probably reward enough in itself for many people.)

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions yet, but I’m enjoying the process of discovery. And this is one thing Criminal Girls does well. The dungeons may be somewhat blandly designed, but it’s satisfying and fun to explore them and find their hidden treasures. Discovering how new skills work after a successful “motivation” session is enjoyable and interesting — particularly with the game’s idiosyncratic battle system, in which you simply take suggestions from the girls rather than micromanaging them. And discovering more about what is shaping up to be a very interesting cast of characters is providing plenty of incentive for me to want to push onwards and find out the truth.

I’m enjoying it a lot, then. It’s keeping me entertained enough that I now have copies of both Hyperdimension Neptunia Re;Birth2 and Hyperdevotion Noire — both highly, highly anticipated games for me — and haven’t yet popped them in my Vita for even a quick look yet. And I fully intend to see it through to the end before I indulge myself in more Neptunia than I know what to do with!

1855: Redemption

Having Platinumed Akiba’s Trip — and a lot of fun it was, too, thanks very much — I started on my next non-Final Fantasy XIV game, Criminal Girls.

Criminal Girls drew some attention when it was first announced due to some seriously lewd scenes in which the player character “motivates” the titular girls through some touchscreen-based S&M play. It then drew some further attention when it was revealed that the localisation would seemingly obscure these scenes with pink fog and cut out the somewhat… suggestive voice acting. (As it happens, the voice acting is indeed gone, but as you progress the pink fog does fade away, revealing what’s underneath.)

As so often tends to be the case with games that draw attention for their pervier elements, however, Criminal Girls has plenty of interesting stuff going on that doesn’t involve spanking. It’s a 2D, retro-style RPG of the 16/32-bit mould, and thus far — I’m only an hour or two in so far — it seems to be most intriguing.

At the game’s outset, you, as the participant narrator-protagonist, find yourself newly employed by the forces of Hell and presented with a selection of young female “delinquents” who have the opportunity to be redeemed and resurrected if they can successfully pass the “four trials” and climb the tower in which they’re incarcerated. It’s your job to escort them on this journey and see where things go from there. Along the way, you’ll fight monsters, solve puzzles and, as previously mentioned, indulge in a bit of naughtiness in the name of “motivation”.

So far so Japanese. Thus far it’s an intriguing setup, with the four initial girls not immediately revealing why they have been incarcerated or what their “delinquency” involved. There’s also a suggestion early on that things are not quite going as expected in Hell, with the “convict” monsters showing up in places where they’re not supposed to. Doubtless all will be revealed — in narrative terms, pervert — as the story progresses, and I’m interested to see how it goes.

What’s probably the most interesting thing about Criminal Girls is its combat system. While nothing particularly fancy presentation-wise — in fact, it’s one of the most visually bland combat systems I’ve seen, although the chibi representations of the girls are cute — the execution is the intriguing thing here. Unlike most RPGs, where you have the opportunity to micromanage what every party member is doing, in Criminal Girls you only have four options each turn, and that determines what the whole party will be doing. The available options are determined by which abilities the girls have learned through “motivation” sessions, and simply what they feel like doing on any given turn. Initially, the girls will simply refuse to do anything, but as they’re motivated they’ll unlock more and more abilities, and each turn it’s simply a case of deciding which of the four suggestions the girls offer you is the most appropriate: do you go for an all-out attack with multiple members, or do you allow an individual to do something a little more special? So far it’s simple, but I anticipate it becoming a very interesting system as the game progresses and more abilities open up.

I can’t say a lot more about it yet as I’ve only played the opening section. I’m looking forward to discovering more about it, though; perviness aside (which I have absolutely no problem with, as you know) it’s shaping up to be one of the more unconventional takes on the RPG genre I’ve played for quite some time.